


High Maintenance

by vegaisthesound



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Romance, championship rider law, moto racing au, team lead engineer kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 22:41:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3872449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vegaisthesound/pseuds/vegaisthesound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The annual World Championship Grand Prix is the god-tier of motorcycle racing. At this level the competition is cutthroat, and only the best of the best are invited to participate. For last year's reigning champion team the pressure to win is even greater.</p>
<p>Kid is more concerned with how he's going to get through this season without murdering the fucking bitch that rides his bike, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preliminary Rounds

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I'm finally posting this! Thanks for all the support on tumblr so far, it really warms my icy black heart. I'm hoping this won't take much longer to finish, so look forward to frequent updates. 
> 
> This was inspired by the [rumor/fact](http://trafalgarlaw-eustasskid.tumblr.com/post/29260365621/ok-so-i-know-many-of-you-wont-agree-with-this) that Law's character design is based on Valentino Rossi, a nine time champion of the world grand prix, generally considered a MotoGP prodigy.
> 
> BTW, I know nothing about moto racing or the grand prix so half this shit is made up and the rest is cobbled together from wikipedia. Apologies in advance for any resulting suspension of disbelief.

Twenty-five top racing teams of eight nations participate in the premier class of the championship, traveling the world to compete in the FIM World Championship series. 

The season consists of eighteen rounds, beginning in March and ending in November, taking place across fifteen different countries: Qatar, Spain, Portugal, China, France, Italy, Great Britain, the Netherlands, Germany, the US, Czech Republic, San Marino, Japan, Australia, and Malaysia.

Grand Prix motorcycles are purpose-built racing machines that are neither available for purchase by the general public, nor can be ridden legally on public roads.

===

Race 0

===

Kid fucking loves his job.

He practically built the world's best motorcycle from the ground up, a marvel of engineering whose every detail he's lovingly hand-tuned and tweaked since it was nothing more than a schematic on a sheet of blueprint. He adores that bike, he'd give up the rights to his first-born child before he'd ever leave the team and let some other piece of shit engineer touch it.

All day long he works with only the best equipment, the top technicians, the sharpest cutting edge research. He's at the absolute forefront of his field, and the sponsors throw disgusting amounts of money at him and his crew to keep them there, because they're fucking worth it. It's his dream job, and he's earned it. 

There's only one problem: Trafalgar fucking Law, the asshole who wins titles on his perfect bike.

Trafalgar may be the one riding every race, and he's worth millions in sponsorship contracts in his own right, but he acts like he's the center of the goddamn universe. Who the fuck cares. It's Kid's bike that's carrying his worthless hide to the finish line, stick any dumb jock on it and it'll still break records.

Except Trafalgar is the star of the team, his name is the brand. Bike enthusiasts might like Kid, but racing fans only had eyes for Trafalgar. Since they were the ones that spent all their money on tickets and merchandise, the sponsors and his handlers do nothing to counteract his ego. They all worship the ground he walks on, and anyone who doesn't bow down along with them and kiss Trafalgar's ass will never hear the end of it.

Kid has worked on lots of racing teams before making it all the way to the international stage, and riders were all divas. He's used to dealing with them, and their vague nonsense about how a bike “feels” and “rides.” Half of them didn't know how the goddamn gearbox worked. Fuck that, he could make his bikes perform better than any-fucking-thing else out there. If a rider had a complaint, it was always fucking user error. 

Trafalgar is the worst diva of them all, though. Not only does he come with all the usual bullshit, but he knows all the right buzzwords to spit in Kid's face when there's something about the bike he doesn't like. He doesn't throw up his hands in a huff when Kid dumps a load of tech specs on him, oh no, he has to start a long fucking argument each and every goddamn time.

He's not too prissy to come down to the garage to bitch about his problems, either. Killer usually has to remind Kid to put down the socket wrench he's holding so he doesn't just brain Trafalgar during their daily shouting matches about the transmission, or the tire treads, or the fucking grips on the fucking handles, whatever stick Trafalgar has decided to shove up his ass that day.

It drives Kid absolutely nuts that he has to have a fucking debate to justify even the tiniest choices to the fucking rider, of all people. He'll talk shop with his crew all day about the pros and cons of ceramic composite brakes, in fact he's paid to do it, because he's the fucking team lead engineer and that's his fucking job. 

What's NOT his job is wasting his goddamn time arguing with Trafalgar, time that should be spent running tests and diagnostics and researching the other teams' bikes. The rider should just worry about winning the shitty races, and let him worry about winning the tech war. He refuses to let anyone get ahead of him in his own game, so why the hell can't Trafalgar get the fuck off his back?

And the worst part is, nobody else will tell the shithead he needs to stay the fuck in his own lane. The rest of the world apparently considers it a good thing that Trafalgar takes such an intensely personal interest in Kid's job. The fans think Trafalgar's a fucking genius for knowing every last detail of the bike he rides, and the sponsors love boasting that there's such “frequent dialogue” between the rider's crew and the shop crew. 

He is going to end up murdering the shit out of Trafalgar one day, and he won't even care that every jury in the country would convict him. The fucker deserves it.

…

On the night before the first round of prelim races, which was really the beginning of the whole Grand Prix since obviously his bike would make it through prelims, Kid has been up running tests and checks since the previous day. This is the last chance he'd get to spend time alone with his bike before getting caught up with the whirlwind of races and traveling and officials breathing down his neck every second, and he wants to make sure everything is _perfect_.

Of course that has to be the time when Trafalgar decides to pay a visit to the garage.

Kid glares at him when he saunters in, but Trafalgar doesn't heed the warning, so he preemptively puts down the wrench he's holding. There's no way they could find a substitute rider ten hours before the first race anyway. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps, his usual greeting for riders daring to enter his domain. 

“Just making sure you're not still trying to change anything about the carburetors.”

“I already told you it needed an adjustment.”

“And I told you that last time your adjustment fucked with the clutch.” 

“It doesn't- goddamnit Trafalgar I'm not explaining this again! The clutch is gonna be fine!”

“If you're so sure, let me take it out and I'll try it right now,” Trafalgar says, idly inspecting his nails like he might've gotten them dirty just by talking to Kid.

“Are you fucking crazy?! Nobody's touching it until the practice run! Fuck off!”

God, does this asshole really expect Kid to let him take the bike out for a spin in the middle of the night? Trafalgar would absolutely find something new to throw a fit over. He was always even more of an uptight prick right before a race, and Kid would be the one left spending the rest of the time before prelims re-running all the checks he just did. Riders had no gratitude whatsoever for all the extra work the shop crew put into a bike for race day. 

There was no fucking way he was letting Trafalgar anywhere near his bike tonight. 

“Then you just expect me to let you mess up my bike and take no responsibility tomorrow?”

Fucking. Piece. Of SHIT. HIS BIKE?! FUCK NO.

Kid grabs him by the front of his shirt and slams his back into the wall, making a tray of bolts fall off their shelf and spill all over the floor. 

“You fucker,” he growls, baring his teeth right in Trafalgar's sneering face.

Trafalgar just rolls his eyes, not even attempting to get away. “Are you an idiot? You can't injure the rider the night before prelims.”

“You think you're so special, huh? You wouldn't even fucking be here if it weren't for me and my bike,” Kid says, pinning Trafalgar against the wall high enough that only the tips of his toes reach the ground. He doesn't want to hurt Trafalgar exactly, but he does want to scare the living shit out of him. 

He shoves his knee between Trafalgar's legs, looming forward and using their size difference to his advantage. “You're such a little bitch all the time, learn to show some fucking respect.”

“Oh, you want me to say thank you for messing up my bike? Why didn't you say so earlier, Eustass.” 

Trafalgar's tone is dripping with condescension, but when Kid scowls at him, ready to prove he's not gonna enjoy learning exactly what the fuck he means by _respect_ — 

Wait. Trafalgar isn't actually... oh fuck is he? Trafalgar is giving him fucking bedroom eyes. He's not scared at all! The little shit!! If he thinks he can call Kid's bluff he's got another thing coming– Kid's being serious here, he's really gonna do something! 

Kid kisses him, hard. 

Trafalgar seems surprised for a moment, and then he's opening his mouth and wrapping his arms around Kid's neck.

Kid responds without a second thought, pressing flush up against him and licking into his mouth, all other intentions flying out the window immediately. He lets go of Trafalgar's shirt so he can reach down and heft him up with two hands under his ass. 

Trafalgar makes a pleased sound when he's shoved into the wall again, getting his long legs over Kid's hips so Kid is left as his only support. 

Kid grinds forward and Trafalgar only squeezes around him tighter, until there's no space left between them and he can't even take a breath because Trafalgar is still kissing him like _that_. Shit he feels good, all hot and lean... Kid suddenly wants to touch skin, and shoves a hand up Trafalgar's shirt. 

Trafalgar rocks his hips so nicely when Kid thumbs over his nipple, rubbing his hard cock into Kid's, and Kid almost fucking drops him. They're actually gonna fuck, aren't they? Christ, who even gives a shit anymore.

He carries Trafalgar over to the closest work bench with their mouths still locked together and clears everything off it with a sweep of his arm, sending tools and paperwork alike to the greasy shop floor before dropping Trafalgar onto the relatively clean tabletop. 

Trafalgar lies back straight away, pulling Kid down until he almost has to climb onto the bench with him just so they won't have to stop kissing. The heel of Trafalgar's boot digs sharply into one of his kidneys, and he reaches back and grabs it, determined to get those fucking weapons off Trafalgar's feet as soon as possible. 

Taking Trafalgar's boots off naturally leads to getting everything else off his lower half. While Kid's doing that Trafalgar decides to finally make himself useful and take his shirt off too, leaving him laid out on Kid's work bench, buck naked and hard and _fucking gorgeous_. 

Kid has to stop and stare for a second so he can drink it all in. Trafalgar has no right to look that delicious when he's always such an arrogant piece of shit, and Kid fully intends to let tonight be a good lesson for him about why he should show some fucking appreciation once in a while.

But first he needs to put his mouth on those tattoos because they're just begging to be licked... and the fucking noises Trafalgar makes when his nipples are bitten and sucked are absolutely obscene. Kid has never heard the guy even say please before, so hearing him beg to be fucked like he's gonna die if Kid doesn't get his dick in him _right the fuck now_ is nothing short of witnessing a miracle. 

Kid almost comes in his jeans from listening to all that before he can find something non-toxic to use for lube, and then it's a struggle to keep it together long enough to finger Trafalgar's ass until he's wet and loose because Trafalgar will not stop making those goddamn _sounds_ in that _goddamn voice_.

Finally he's sinking into that sweet hole, with Trafalgar's legs up over his shoulders and his hands spreading Trafalgar's ass open to take his cock as deep as he can get it, and Trafalgar is moaning so loud they can probably hear him in the hotel a mile away. 

It feels so good Kid doesn't even think to wait once he's inside, he's already gone. All he wants to do is fuck this noisy little bitch he's got under him until he can't come anymore. 

And that's pretty much exactly what he does. 

He finds Trafalgar likes it pretty rough, which is great, because that's how he likes it too. 

Trafalgar gets unbelievably riled up from being pinned against the tabletop and made to stay put and take whatever Kid feels like giving him. He comes just from getting fucked, practically crying with relief, and looks absolutely beautiful when he does it.

Kid could watch that a million times and never get bored.

An hour and three orgasms later though, he's completely spent, Trafalgar is finally all fucked out, and there's way too much goddamn cum on his work bench. Kid wants to sleep for about a week, as soon as he cleans up so nobody ever finds out he fucked Trafalgar in here.

Trafalgar has his arm thrown over his eyes, one heel propped up on the edge of the bench and the other leg dangling over it. Somehow he still manages to look smug as hell, even though he's literally dripping with cum.

“Get your ass up,” Kid says while he looks around for a rag clean enough that it won't just make a bigger mess. 

“Mmhm,” Trafalgar hums, though he doesn't move an inch until Kid knocks his foot off the table's edge. Then he sits up and stretches, his face pulling into a grimace. “Did you really have to be so rough? I'm going to be sitting on a bike all day tomorrow, you know.” 

Kid smirks at him. “Didn't hear you complaining. Don't blame it on me when you get a shit time.” 

“I will blame it on you if you don't fix the carb the way it was yesterday.”

“Like hell I'm gonna do that now, asshole. It's fine, just go get your precious beauty sleep.”

Trafalgar opens his mouth to disagree of course, but then to Kid's amazement he seems to think better of it and hops off the bench to start picking up his clothes instead. 

“We'll see,” is all Trafalgar says as he gets dressed. “Good night, Eustass.” He tosses a lazy wave back at Kid on his way out of the garage, and then he's gone.

What the hell, Trafalgar not sticking around to argue? Now that is a fucking miracle.

…

The next day Trafalgar takes the prelims by storm, leaving all but the most seasoned riders in the dust.

Trafalgar acts like this is simply the expected outcome (Kid happens to agree only because it was his bike doing all the work), but his manager and assistant are ecstatic and insist on throwing a party for him that same night. 

The whole team is invited, so Kid goes, if only because he hasn't had a chance to talk to Trafalgar since last night. Every other second they'd been around each other that day had been taken up by racing business. 

“Seems like the clutch was just fine,” Kid says, once Trafalgar stops being mobbed by sponsor reps and VIPs long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. 

Trafalgar takes a sip of the champagne he's holding, hardly sparing Kid a glance. “It was a little shaky.” 

Kid snorts, he can't even be mad that Trafalgar insists on disagreeing despite placing first in every line up. Not when he can remember having the bitch squirming desperately on his cock yesterday. “Yeah ok, if you say so. I'm still not changing anything.”

At that moment Trafalgar's annoying shit of a manager pops out of nowhere

Penguin sets into him without even a 'hello,' and Kid almost suspects he was just waiting to overhear something he could yell at him about. “What the fuck do you mean you're not changing anything! Law, what do you want changed? He'll change it!”

And here's the fucking cavalry. As if Trafalgar wasn't enough of a pain in Kid's neck alone, the instant he didn't get his way his manager and assistant were always ready to sic Kid like a pair of white knights defending the honor of their princess.

“Piss off, shorty,” Kid growls. “You don't even know what the fuck I'm talking about.”

“I don't need to know the specifics,” Penguin snaps back. “It's Law's decision, your job is to follow his feedback.”

Kid rolls his eyes. There's nothing that can make him stop listening faster than somebody trying to tell him what his job is. “I would, if he ever gave any feedback worth a shit.”

“You— don't ignore the rider! It's his neck on the line every day, you know!”

“Yeah, and what a pretty neck he's got. I'd hate for anything to happen to it.” Kid gives the guy his most wolfish smirk. 

Implying anything than the utmost concern for Trafalgar's safety never failed to get his handlers all riled up. It's not Kid's best idea to poke at them, they always end up causing shit for him later on, but he can't really help it. It's too funny to watch them freak out over nothing, as if he'd ever do anything that'd put his bike in danger. 

Just as Penguin is puffing up, looking like he's ready to dump a shitload of hell right on Kid's head and really get this party started, Trafalgar decides to cut in.

“I didn't say anything needed to be changed.”

Kid raises a brow. He can't remember the last time Trafalgar didn't enjoy watching somebody tear strips out of his hide, especially in public, but he rolls with it anyway. “Yeah, don't have a heart attack.”

Penguin glares at him. “If he tells you to change something, then fucking change it next time. Being an asshole about it doesn't help anybody, Eustass.”

“Yeah, yeah. Did you actually need something, or you just wanna flap your mouth at me?”

“I don't need anything from you,” Penguin says, and turns to Trafalgar. “Law, the Ducati rep wanted to know if you had an answer for them.” 

Before Trafalgar has a chance to reply, Kid blurts out, “Ducati? Why the fuck are you talking to Ducati?” 

Ducati isn't one of their sponsors, and Kid's been dying to get in touch with them for months ever since he heard they were developing a new line of ultralight carbon fiber frames. Supposedly they had already sunk millions into research for it, and were keeping it all top secret for now.

Trafalgar and his manager both ignore him.

“I'll do it, but I want January,” Trafalgar says. 

Penguin nods knowingly. “Right, I'll get you January, no problem.” Then he sniffs in Kid's general direction, with a face like he thinks someone stepped in dogshit but he's too polite to say anything, and walks off. 

Prick. He'd probably pass out on the spot if he knew this particular dog was fucking his precious Trafalgar over a bench in the garage last night. 

It's really amazing how that simple fact makes everything related to Trafalgar so much easier to tolerate.

“What's Ducati want?” Kid demands as soon as Penguin is out of range.

“It's for advertising, not parts,” Trafalgar says, sounding entirely bored already as his gaze wanders around the room, not stopping on anyone. “You'll just have to live with the frame we have now.”

What the hell did he know, fucker.

“Whatever.” Kid leans in and drops his voice a notch. “So I've been wondering, how's your ass doing? Didn't seem to slow you down any today.”

Trafalgar doesn't react at all to him bringing up their activities last night, only taking another sip of champagne. 

Kid already knows a blush is too much to ask for, but he was kinda hoping for something, maybe a good sneer, or at least a frown. He didn't expect Trafalgar to get upset or anything, the guy always maintained a cool face in front of a crowd. He saved all his tantrums for when his fans weren't around.

“My ass is fine, despite your best efforts. Thanks for asking.” 

Kid grins. “Who said that was my best effort?”

Trafalgar finally puts his full attention on Kid. He looks lazy and disinterested, but the corner of his mouth lifts just a fraction. Kid is surprised to learn that sends a little thrill through him. Man, had he really never had a civil conversation with Trafalgar long enough to notice that before?

“My mistake.”

Kid can't think of something smart to say back, he's too busy trying to figure out the best way to get Trafalgar alone later without anyone realizing. It's not like he'd really mind people knowing, he can just bet it would stir up a lot of shit if it got out that they were fucking, and he'd rather avoid that during the most important races of the year. 

And okay, they'd only fucked once, but he's pretty sure it'll happen again. So what if they still hated each other? Last night had been pretty fucking spectacular, Trafalgar would have to be even more petty and stubborn than Kid thought (and he already thought Trafalgar was really goddamn petty and stubborn) if he'd turn him down next time.

Before he comes up with anything to say at all though, Trafalgar is tipping back the last of his champagne and setting the empty glass down. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says, then waltzes away and starts mingling with some suits.

What the fuck. Did he just get snubbed? He thinks he just got snubbed. Well, fuck him too!

Kid snatches a pair of highballs off a passing server's tray, and goes to find his crew.

The only one he ends up finding is Killer. Heat and Wire fucked off half an hour ago while he was hanging around in the main room trying to get a minute with Trafalgar, and he can't really blame them. These parties served as an excuse to convince people that Trafalgar was god's gift to racing, anyone who didn't agree and wasn't there to make more money probably had somewhere better to be.

“So,” Killer says once Kid joins him out on the balcony, overlooking the dark race track. “You fucked Trafalgar.” 

Kid swallows the drink he had just taken very carefully so he doesn't spit it out. “What are you talking about?”

Killer doesn't say anything else. He doesn't really have to, since Kid knows what he means. It's that 'who the fuck do you think you're talking to' kind of thing Killer is so good at doing.

“Alright, so what?”

Killer shrugs. “Just wondering if you'd admit it.”

“Don't be an asshole,” Kid says, grimacing at some undetermined point on the horizon.

“I hope it was worth it.”

“It was fucking amazing. He did this thing—”

“I don't really want to know.”

“Yeah but it was like—”

“Really. Don't want to know.”

“God, fine.”


	2. Race 1

Losail International Circuit, Doha, Qatar

…

Three days later Trafalgar is being as much of a shit as ever, and Kid is happy to return the favor. The only times they've spoken to each other since the party covered their usual topics, at top volume. They nearly came to blows over which tires will have the best traction in the desert. So pretty much normal.

Except it's not the same really, because he can still remember exactly how good it feels to kiss Trafalgar while holding him down and coming inside him for a third time in a row. 

Nothing like this had happened last season, of course. That had been his first year working on the same team as Trafalgar, and they were both a little more wary of each other back then. They'd stopped giving a fuck about even pretending to get along by the time they took the championship, however. 

Ever since then their relationship has been... intense. Open warfare, some might say. The only way to let off that steam was either gonna be sex or violence, so it's probably a good thing that it happened this way.

And in his opinion there's nothing wrong with some good old-fashioned hatefucking as a method for relieving tension. He has no problem sleeping with a guy who made him so angry he'd lost his voice more than once from screaming at him on such a regular basis. The hassle of separating work from pleasure is worth it for the sake of sex that good.

Though going by Trafalgar's attitude towards him since then, it was just a one-time deal. If anything, the bitch had only gotten meaner.

Kid's alright with that, really. He doesn't fucking understand it – at all – but chalks it up to stress running extra high for both of them at the start of the season, and Trafalgar being a huge asshole. It doesn't hurt his feelings that Trafalgar didn't change his opinion of him after they slept together once, even if it was so good that Kid thinks it should have been a transformative experience for the little shit.

There is one little thing bothering him though. He can't stop thinking about it. 

Now that he knows what Trafalgar looks like under his riding gear, he pays more attention to his ass and less attention to the bike under him. When they fight over whatever bone Trafalgar is picking that day, he'll lose his train of thought in the middle of it because he gets distracted by Trafalgar's mouth, and then the argument lasts twice as long. 

He's got enough on his plate just preparing for the first race, he doesn't need to add anything else. And he's pretty sure he's only so preoccupied because he knows they're not gonna do it again. The harder he tries to just get the fuck over it the more he winds up fixating on it. It's turning into a real nuisance, but there's nothing he can do besides suck it up. 

He can't even vent about it to anybody to get a little sympathy, either. The only person who knows what happened is Killer, and Killer would probably punch him in the face if he started whining about Trafalgar not wanting to fuck again. He'd spent the last year complaining nonstop about how much he fucking despised the guy, and before last week if anyone else in his crew had admitted they'd fucked Trafalgar he would've punched them in the face too, for being fucking traitors.

Still. It's really getting on his nerves.

Currently the team is on a flight to Qatar for the first real race of the season. The trip takes up a whole day, and the only thing on Kid's mind is worrying that every patch of rough air is going to jostle his bike, even though he spent an hour that morning making sure it was secure enough to survive a crash landing. 

He still doesn't understand why the pilot wouldn't let him bring it into the passenger cabin. Screw regulations, that bike is worth more than the whole fucking plane.

When they land Trafalgar is whisked off to the hotel straight from the plane, while Kid and his crew are left unloading the bike onto the sweltering tarmac, inspecting every point of it for damages to sign off on the multi-million dollar transport insurance policy, then trucking the thing over to the garage assigned to the team at the raceway. Qatar is fucking hot, even in the spring. Thank god at least the shop is air conditioned, or Kid might have just died of fucking heat stroke.

As it is he's still sweating his ass off in the garage for fourteen hours a day overseeing the race prep for the next two days, and then at night when it finally cools off he's wide awake because of the goddamn jet lag. 

He gets through it as best he can, none of his work suffers that's for damn sure. The minute he's 100% certain everything is perfect for the race the next day though, he falls right the fuck asleep on top of a pile of diagnostic results and engine schematics.

He wakes up again with sudden urgency when his subconscious detects someone is in his fucking garage, touching his fucking stuff. His hand shoots out and grabs a wrist, clamping down mercilessly around slim bones before he even gets his eyes open, and he snarls, “What the fuck you think you're doin',” as he tries to blink the sleep out of his eyes so he can identify the trespasser.

It turns out to just be Trafalgar that he's captured, looking at him with mild surprise.

“Oh. It's you.” Kid lets go of his wrist and tries to frown, but yawns in Trafalgar's face instead. “What d'you want.” 

“The results of the performance tests this afternoon.”

“Huh? What for?” Kid asks, as he starts shuffling papers around looking for the data Trafalgar is talking about.

Trafalgar doesn't answer him though, and he doesn't take the folder of printouts when Kid finds it and holds it out. He looks distracted, leaning against the edge of the table and drumming his fingers on it.

Kid waves the folder at him. “You want it or not?” He didn't actually care what Trafalgar wanted this shit for, the guy could do whatever he wanted with it. 

No matter what problem Trafalgar found, or made up, the only thing Kid is gonna do is get back to his hotel room for some actual sleep. He'd already been through the fucking results three times himself, and cross-referenced it with a dozen other reports, and he knows there's nothing wrong with them.

There was nothing Trafalgar could say that'd convince him to do any more fucking work tonight.

Trafalgar finally takes the folder when Kid is ready to smack him with the damn thing, and starts thumbing through it. 

Kid leans back in his chair and stretches, cracking his spine with a satisfying pop. “If you're gonna read it all, then take it with you. I'm lockin' the place up.”

“Hmm,” is all Trafalgar says.

Kid watches him for a minute, then gets exasperated when he realizes he's just staring. It doesn't seem like Trafalgar is flipping the pages with any clear goal in mind, either. “Did you come all the way down here just to fuck with me?”

“Why would I bother wasting my time.”

“How the hell should I know why do you do any of the bullshit you do,” Kid complains. It usually felt like Trafalgar only did anything if he knew it'd piss Kid off, but that doesn't stop him from hoping this might be an exception. And even though he really should go the fuck back to the hotel already, he doesn't hurry Trafalgar along. 

“You still jet lagged too?” he asks instead, now genuinely curious what Trafalgar is up to this late before a race. Shouldn't his assistant have put him to bed and tucked him in by now?

“Somewhat,” Trafalgar says, then seems to give up on finding whatever he was looking for in the test results and tosses the folder back on the table.

“What, nothing to bitch about tonight? That's fucking new. Wait-” Kid holds up a hand as Trafalgar starts to frown. “Don't start now. This is fine.”

Trafalgar frowns at him anyway.

Kid is acutely aware that the last time they wound up alone like this they ended up fucking, but now they're in a different country, waiting to compete in a different race, a lot has happened since then really. Still, it feels very similar...

He is way too sleep deprived to try and figure out exactly where the parallels lay, so he decides to just go for it.

He puts a hand on Trafalgar's hip to tug him a bit closer. “Hey since you're awake, how about you help me with something...” 

If the guy brushes him off this time then he'll take it as solid proof that Trafalgar really doesn't want to sleep with him again, and maybe he'd finally be able to get the bitch off his mind.

But Trafalgar does not brush him off. No, Trafalgar climbs right onto the damn chair with him, slides his hands into Kid's hair, and kisses him firm on the mouth, like he'd been waiting for Kid to do that the whole time. 

Well. He'll definitely take this over Trafalgar finding another reason to yell at him.

And oh, that's really great, maybe even better than before. Probably because this time he's not too angry to appreciate that Trafalgar is actually damn good at kissing. 

Trafalgar pushes in close, leaning his full weight onto him, making it real easy for Kid to get his arms around him and slide both hands down to grab his ass. 

The first time he'd been too busy fucking Trafalgar to stop and really give his ass a good grope, so he's glad to do that now. It's a great ass, firm and tight from the thousands of hours Trafalgar spent on the track. 

Kid might not admit it to anyone, but he knows Trafalgar really does ride like a god. He wouldn't settle for anything less than a world champion's ass on his bike. His standards are a little lower for who's allowed to ride his dick, but still. He can appreciate Trafalgar's gifts a lot more when it's like this.

And appreciate he does, getting Trafalgar's pants tugged down his thighs as much as he can without making him get out of his lap, just enough to let him thoroughly molest Trafalgar without any barriers while they make out nonstop. 

With his pants half off it's pretty obvious just how much it turns Trafalgar on to have his naked ass groped, so of course Kid has to dedicate some time to appreciating his hard cock too, loving the way that makes Trafalgar squirm against his crotch, and how he has to break away to moan out loud when Kid rubs his leaking slit with a thumb.

“Like that, huh? You little slut,” Kid mutters, unable to tear his eyes away from Trafalgar's dick now that he has a chance to see what he's doing. “Lean back a bit,” he says, and Trafalgar props his hands on Kid's knees, demonstrating his expert sense of balance when he doesn't fall off while Kid drags his jeans off the rest of the way.

Trafalgar spreads his knees shamelessly as soon as they're free, putting himself on display for Kid right in his lap. 

Kid swallows, his mouth going dry at the sight, and pushes Trafalgar's shirt up too, leaving him almost completely exposed. God, he still can't understand how Trafalgar looks so fucking gorgeous like this. But whatever, he doesn't need to understand, he just needs to touch him some more right the fuck now.

He gets his hand on Trafalgar's leaking dick again, and sucks on two fingers to get them wet enough so he can start playing with Trafalgar's ass properly.

Trafalgar looks like he's in heaven – his eyes are so heavy-lidded they're almost shut while he watches himself be fucked with Kid's fingers. There's just the hint of a flush darkening his skin, and he's biting his lip between sharp white teeth. 

Kid can't tell if Trafalgar's rocking his hips on purpose or automatically, but either way it's so hot he can't stand it. Before too long he realizes if he doesn't get Trafalgar on his dick in the next ten seconds one of them is going to come before he gets a chance to fuck him again. And that's really not acceptable, because he's so tired he'll probably pass out as soon as that happens.

Luckily he has lube handy ( _just in case_ , he told himself when he made sure to have some with him every day for the last five days, _I'm not obsessing I'm being prepared_ ) so he doesn't have to waste time looking for anything. He just slicks himself up and gets Trafalgar wet as fast as possible, and then lifts Trafalgar by the hips and makes him sit down on his cock.

Turns out, Trafalgar isn't just good at riding bikes. Not much of a surprise, but still nice to know.

He doesn't have the energy to fuck Trafalgar for an hour straight tonight, and Trafalgar doesn't seem to be up for anything that exhausting either, so it's not as intense as it was the first time. Instead it's slower, more relaxing than tiring. Trafalgar can kiss him the entire time in this position, and does, while keeping a smooth, easy, up-and-down pace.

Kid's climax wells up warm and irresistible inside him, and it feels like such relief when he finally comes, groaning into Trafalgar's mouth, his fist already covered with Trafalgar's cum from half a minute ago. He could fall asleep right this second, but Trafalgar is still kissing him and he doesn't want to miss out on any of that either.

After a few more long delicious minutes though, Trafalgar stops.

“I should get back to my room,” he murmurs, nudging against Kid's cheek with one last kiss.

“Yeah, me too.” He nuzzles Trafalgar's ear a bit, mouthing at his earrings, and teases him, “Don't fuck up tomorrow.”

Trafalgar pulls away, regarding him with a 'who the fuck do you think you're talking to' look that could rival Killer's.

Kid grins back, giving his ass a rough squeeze and a quick smack before lifting him off, letting Trafalgar find his own footing again.

He gets himself straightened out while watching Trafalgar pull down his shirt and get his jeans back on, then pushes out of the chair and stands up as well. 

Once he realizes if they leave at the same time they'll end up going back to the hotel together though, he falters. It's kind of a long walk, they'd probably talk, and he'd really hate to sour the mood so soon by bickering about something stupid. 

He pushes a hand through his hair, getting it out of his eyes. “I gotta lock up, so... g'night.”

“Mmhm,” Trafalgar says, and goes. If he wanted Kid to walk with him, he doesn't give any sign of it. 

On his own way to the hotel ten minutes later, Kid kinda wishes he hadn't chickened out. Maybe Trafalgar was nicer right after getting fucked? He'd never find out if he didn't give him a shot.

…

Trafalgar (and Kid's bike) takes first in the race the next day, and breaks a course record in the process. By all accounts it's a perfect start to the season.

Trafalgar's posse flips their collective shit obviously, and throws another party at the hotel, but Kid and his crew decline the invite in favor of their usual victory celebration: getting absolutely trashed. 

Normally this would be done with an all-night bar crawl through whatever city they're in at the time, except for when they're in Qatar, because in Qatar alcohol consumption is punishable by flogging. So for tonight they just drink smuggled vodka in Kid's room.

Around 2 AM he's very drunk, still humming with triumph from the win, and he gets to thinking about what Trafalgar is up to – whether he's still schmoozing sponsors at the party or whether he's back in his own room yet. Maybe he's with one of the fine young things that were always flocking to him at parties like that, even though he rarely looked twice at any of his hanger-ons during events. Then again, he never looks twice at Kid when anyone else is around either, and see where that got him.

He can't help wondering what Trafalgar would do if he showed up at his door. If he was with someone, Kid didn't mind sharing. Trafalgar probably looked real good fucking somebody else, he'd love to bend him over some other bitch and lean in close to tell him just how to do it...

But he's not gonna try that, because if Trafalgar shut the door in his face he'd probably end up kicking it down, or coming back to his room and sulking so hard his whole crew would know what happened by morning. He'd look like a huge idiot either way.

Still, he wishes he could. Trafalgar was great on his bike today, taking that win like it belonged to them. Kid wants a new celebration ritual, one that involves him and Trafalgar both reveling in the glory at the same time, and then ideally doing something that involved the hands that built the bike getting nice and friendly with the ass that rode it.

…

Trafalgar goes right back to being a huge fucking pain in his ass during the two weeks before the next race. When he's not finding new things to bitch about he's pretending Kid doesn't exist, shutting down any of the generous attempts Kid makes to talk to him without raising his voice. It's even more infuriating than it was before they fucked.

Kid is positive that Trafalgar's being more vicious than ever, too. Even his crew has remarked on how high strung the guy is lately, and they're used to ignoring him and Trafalgar turning the shop into a warzone almost every day. Eventually Kid gives up on getting anything out of him besides an argument and a stabbing headache from holding back the urge to kill.

The night before the second race though, when he can't help going down to the garage even though the bike is all set for tomorrow, on the off chance of something happening, Trafalgar is already there. Kid makes some empty complaints about him fooling around in the shop behind his back, then gets him face-first against a wall and fucks him hard from behind. 

Now that he understands the pattern, it's pretty easy to go along with it. He works, they fight, they fuck, Trafalgar wins the races, and then repeat. 

It's not the ideal arrangement – it'd be a lot nicer if Trafalgar didn't insist on being such an asshole literally all the goddamn rest of the time, just for example – but Kid has to say he still prefers it infinitely over how it was a month ago, with Trafalgar being an unrepentant prick and him not getting to screw the hell out of his bitch ass occasionally. He'll put up with Trafalgar's extra dose of venom during the days between races when he knows later he'll be able to work off his frustration in the best way.

All this hot and cold bullshit confuses the hell out of him, though. He can only guess why Trafalgar is being worse than before. If this was all a simple matter of stress relief like he originally thought, shouldn't it make the bitch chill the fuck out? 

Maybe he really, genuinely despises Kid, and hates the fact he's attracted to him... which is both flattering to think that he's so irresistible it could overcome even the deepest grudge, and intensely aggravating that not even sex this good can make Trafalgar stop being so damn awful.

The other possibility is that Trafalgar is doing it all on purpose because he likes the rough fucking he gets out of it. Kid likes that option much better, since that would mean all the goddamn fighting was just Trafalgar's fucked up way of flirting.

He might not be able to tell what the hell is going on in Trafalgar's head most of the time, but at least he has no doubt about whether or not Trafalgar is enjoying this on some level. Whenever they fuck Trafalgar makes it no secret that he loves every second. 

Even halfway through the season, nine races in and nine to go, it's still amazing how different Trafalgar is during sex. He lets Kid do anything to him without complaint, he's straightforward about what he wants to the point of openly begging for it, and he kisses like he really means it. 

Trafalgar would have to do a lot worse before Kid would give up any of that.


	3. Race 10

Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Indianapolis, USA

…

The tenth race is in Indianapolis, and that's where Kid finally learns why nobody wanted to tell him anything about that advertising deal Trafalgar signed with Ducati.

Trafalgar is going to be appearing in a calendar of Grand Prix champions that Ducati is putting together, one champion for every month of the year, posing with their bikes. 

His people assumed, rightly, that Kid would throw a damn fit if he heard his bike would be used as a fucking photo prop, but Trafalgar and the sponsors have already agreed to the deal and made all the arrangements without consulting him. The only reason Kid even found out about it at all was because they assumed, again rightly, that he would kill somebody if he came into the garage one day and found his bike missing.

He's furious enough to start up a body count as it is, and it really doesn't help matters when he finds out that it's going to be a fucking _naked calendar_. For the female fans, they say. 

Trafalgar. Naked. On his fucking bike. In a calendar that millions of people would own. Jesus Christ.

As much as he yells and swears up and down that they can use his bike for a goddamn pin up calendar over _all their dead fucking bodies_ , the team's lawyers assure him there's nothing he can do about it, and the day of the photo shoot arrives.

He can't do any real work all day because the bike will be occupied by the stupid photo shoot, and it'd be pointless to make his crew put in hours for this kind of bullshit so he's left doing it all himself. Starting early in the morning he has to oversee transporting it to the studio, then getting it set up. 

He refuses to let anybody who can't change a spark plug lay a hand on it once it's there, which means everyone, and takes over putting it into position according to the photographer's whims. There's a lot of 'a little to the left, no stage left, no not that far' that frays his nerves before Trafalgar even shows up.

After Kid's already been there for two hours, Trafalgar breezes in like he's some kind of supermodel: sunglasses on, nose in the air, trailed by his manager and assistant, and late as fuck. He walks straight past Kid without even a nod of recognition, and only stops to talk with the photographer for a moment before he's herded away to a dressing room.

He comes back out a few minutes later, barefoot and in a bathrobe, still being fussed over by hair and make up artists, and then with no warning he just shrugs off the robe and yep he is really naked under there. Goddamn.

Trafalgar is directed to artfully sprawl and drape himself across the bike in every position imaginable, which he does with no shame, while sending dark smoldering looks to the camera

Kid can only stand back and watch, and Trafalgar ignores him every time he snaps to be careful or he'll fucking knock it over. Why the hell did they have to use his bike for this? Couldn't they just paint somebody else's bike to look like his? It's not like anyone was going to be looking at it close enough to notice with Trafalgar sitting all tarted up on top of it like that!

The last straw is when the photographer tries to move the bike, lifting one of Trafalgar's feet off the ground as he does so. 

“Hey! Don't fucking touch him like that!” 

Shachi gives him a weird look, and Kid nearly chokes when he realizes what he just said. 

“It! The bike! Don't- Fuck, just let me do it!” He's fuming as he stalks onto the set, and the photographer and his assistants have the common sense to scatter. 

He has to shoo Trafalgar off the bike before he does anything, though. After that little slip up he does not want to risk touching any part of him, as it is he'll probably have to start pretending that he calls the bike some dude's name to convince people he's not possessive over Trafalgar.

Trafalgar just stands there with a hand propped on his hip and zero modesty, looking bored and very naked until his assistant manages to convince him to put the robe back on and stop giving everyone a free show. 

It's the first time Kid has ever wanted to thank Shachi for anything. Having Trafalgar's dick out four feet away from him is the worst distraction he can think of, bad enough that Trafalgar's bare ass has been all over his bike already. He'd never be able to look at either of them the same way again after today.

For the rest of the shoot Kid's attention is torn between watching anybody who gets close to his bike like a hawk, and wondering who he'll have to bribe for a copy of all these pictures. 

When the photographer calls it a wrap Kid is ready to follow Trafalgar off the set and into his dressing room so he can fuck him into next week, but he has to take care of getting the bike safely back to the garage first. 

The next time he gets Trafalgar alone though, all bets are off. It's still five days before the next race, but he doesn't care how long he has to wait. He is going to ruin that beautiful fucking _bitch_.

…

Kid doesn't end up asking about getting copies of the photos, he doesn't trust any of those studio monkeys not to gossip. Instead he just remembers the shoot, over and over again, for the rest of the week.

Whenever he sees either Trafalgar or his bike, instantly the image of Trafalgar lounging naked on it pops into his head. After a few days of that he's ready to give himself a fucking concussion to get it off his mind. It was bad enough when it happened, but over time his imagination embellishes it to the point of being pornographic.

Well it was already practically soft-core porn, but Kid's stupid head just can't help mixing together the artsy editorial poses and sultry fashion model looks Trafalgar was throwing the camera with how he knows Trafalgar looks when he's coming, or sucking cock, or demanding Kid to please, please hurry up and fuck him already.

It's driving him fucking crazy. All day long before the next race he's only got half his mind on work, and the other half is concerned solely with all the exact positions he's going to get Trafalgar in later that night.

He wants to fuck him on top of the bike. Trafalgar would look so fucking good laid over it and taking his cock, but there's no way Kid would risk causing any damages so that's out of the question. Still, he's gonna fuck Trafalgar every other way possible. The little shit would have to win the race tomorrow without being able to sit down.

The day passes slowly, so very fucking slowly, but finally Kid manages to get his work done and thinks of a reason to get away from his crew for the night. His nerves are buzzing on the way down to the garage for the expected rendezvous, though when he gets there not even a whole week of fantasizing about every scenario that will result in him fucking Trafalgar has prepared him to deal with what he finds.

Trafalgar is already there, which is not a surprise. Half the time he'd be there before Kid, and half the time Kid would hang around until Trafalgar showed up.

The thing that gets him is that Trafalgar has already stripped, and is perched on the bike completely naked. He's sitting more primly than he was at the shoot, legs crossed and hands propped behind him, no obvious attempt made to look seductive (besides the lack of clothing), but even without trying he's just as aloof and devastatingly gorgeous as before.

The sight of him sitting there waiting for him like that is about as shocking as a punch in the goddamn face. Kid just stands in the doorway, speechless for a minute.

Had Trafalgar read his fucking mind or was he being that obvious? Did everyone else know that all he'd been thinking about for the past five days was Trafalgar naked on his bike??

Shit, more importantly, he has to get his hands on that irresistible bitch as soon as fucking possible.

Trafalgar doesn't say a word. He only watches as Kid crosses the room towards him, and Kid has no clue what he's thinking.

“Jesus, you look...” Kid trails off when he realizes that before he does anything else, he wants a fucking picture. He is not gonna be satisfied with the same calendar pic everybody gets.

Trafalgar had to know how fucking hot he looked, right? Asking to take a picture wouldn't be weird at all, right?

He's reaching for his phone before he can come up with answers. “Can I...” oh shit how is he going to ask this without sounding like an idiot. Why does talking to Trafalgar about anything besides work have to confuse him so damn much?

The photo shoot is already imposed all over his memory, where he didn't touch him and Trafalgar just ignored him and they were nothing to each other in front of anyone else. This is sex though, Trafalgar is different during sex. 

With that in mind, Kid closes the gap between them and takes out his phone, holding it up, camera ready. “Spread 'em, sweetheart.”

Trafalgar, perfect untouchable Trafalgar, uncrosses his legs and opens his knees, smirking when he does it.

He's actually posing, the smug fucker.

Kid snaps a picture, then reaches forward and pushes Trafalgar's legs a little farther apart, taking another pic that includes his hand on Trafalgar's thigh. Trafalgar lets him do it, even seems to be just as into it, judging from the expression he has on that just screams 'fuck me,' looking a million times more inviting than anything he'd shown in the studio.

He only gets a few more pics of himself touching Trafalgar in increasingly obscene ways – putting fingers in his mouth, tweaking a nipple with wet fingertips, stroking his cock as it gets hard – before he gives up on capturing the moments and needs to put his phone down so he can use both hands.

He gets Trafalgar off the bike first, and laid on his back on the closest worktop. Goddamn, they really had to do this in a room with a bed sometime, so Kid could fuck him on all fours without bruising the hell out of his knees...

This is good too though – Trafalgar's legs wrapped around his waist, Trafalgar's hands twisted in his hair, dragging him down into an open kiss that lasts forever and wipes every thought from his mind, leaving him with only the instinct to fill Trafalgar with his cum until the little bitch's hole is loose and soaking wet.

When he finishes the first time, he finds that Trafalgar's stomach is already covered with his own release but Trafalgar is hard again. Kid can't help leaning down to lick every drop off him before sucking his cock, fucking him on three fingers up to the last knuckle inside him, where he's a slick mess from Kid's cum.

Trafalgar is crying himself hoarse over it, and his ass feels so damn hot that Kid wants to eat him out next, but before he gets a chance Trafalgar is helplessly bucking into his mouth and coming hard.

God he loves it so much, the fucking slut.

“You're fucking filthy,” is what Kid says, his voice rough after he swallows and pulls off. He wiggles his fingers, still shoved deep in Trafalgar's ass, and Trafalgar moans brokenly, arching up off the table.

“Ah-h Eustass, that's too much—”

“You better not be done yet.” Kid drags his fingers out and admiring the way that makes his cum drip out as well. “I've been going crazy all week,” he confesses.

Trafalgar is sprawled out over the table so relaxed he looks boneless, chest rising and falling on slow heavy breaths. He cracks an eye open to look at Kid. “You liked the photo shoot, then?”

“Hated it.” Kid pinches one of Trafalgar's cheeks before he straightens up and props his arms on either side of Trafalgar's waist.

Trafalgar stretches lazily under him, and smirks. “I'll sign your copy when the calendar comes out.”

“What month did you say you're gonna be?”

“January.”

Oh, that's his birthday. Lucky. He's not going to mention that though, Trafalgar doesn't have to know he's probably going to buy ten copies of the damn calendar.

Trafalgar only needs a few minutes before he's ready to go again, and he's pushy about it too, even though he's the one who kept Kid waiting.

They don't get a chance to fuck in every position Kid wanted, but they still get through a quite a few, taking much more time than they usually did.

He ends up sitting down for the last round, with Trafalgar on top of him, starting out facing the other way but then twisting halfway back so he can hook an arm around Kid's neck and be kissed on the mouth, distracting Kid from sucking any more bruises into his shoulder. They stay like that for a while even after they both finish, the kissing slowing down but dragging on with no end in sight.

Kid absentmindedly strokes over him with both hands, smoothing down the tops of his thighs then up his sides to his chest before repeating the process, just enjoying the feeling of having Trafalgar in his lap, loose and long-limbed and relaxed against him.

“I want to see the pictures you took,” Trafalgar says, his tone low and soft from all the sex.

“Sure,” Kid says. He has zero confidence in his skills as a photographer, and he wasn't planning on sharing the pics, but it's easy to agree to anything Trafalgar has to say when he sounds like that.

He grabs his phone off the table, keeping Trafalgar in place with one arm so he doesn't accidentally dump the guy onto the floor, and hands it over.

Trafalgar spends a minute flicking through the photos, and Kid can't see his face but he's still feeling smug thinking about what he's looking at.

“Better than the shoot, right?” he says, laying a kiss on Trafalgar's neck.

Trafalgar just goes, “Mm,” and gives his phone back.

“Wha- you deleted them?! What the fuck!” Those pics were supposed to tide him over for the two weeks between tomorrow's race and the next, what the hell is he going to do now!

“I never said you could keep them,” Trafalgar says, sliding off Kid's lap and going over to where his clothes are neatly folded on another chair.

“Oh come on,” Kid complains while thumbing through the settings on his phone. So he's whining, he doesn't care. Isn't there some kinda undo option? “What'd you expect me to do? Throw a million dollars at you like Ducati?”

Trafalgar tosses an amused look at him over his bare shoulder. “You'd have to do better than that if you want those kinds of pictures.”

“I wasn't gonna spread 'em around or anything,” Kid says, scowling petulantly at the screen when the photos refuse to reappear. He probably should've seen this coming. Damn Trafalgar for getting his guard down, he couldn't forget for a moment what an ice-cold bitch the guy is. “Shit.”

Once he's dressed again, he gets Trafalgar out of the garage, locks it up, and they head back to the hotel.

This part of the routine, walking back together instead of Trafalgar first and Kid following later, had only started a few weeks ago. It was awkward the first time, Kid had no idea what he could say that wouldn't spark an argument, but Trafalgar hadn't given him any trouble, only kept pace next to him and said goodnight when they parted ways in the lobby.

Now it feels almost natural. They can chat a bit during the walk, and as long as it's not related to work or whatever what's going on between them is called it's actually kind of nice.

Tonight Kid spends the time complaining about Indianapolis. The city is shit and the people are shit and why can't they move the 10th circuit somewhere farther south to a place that has better food? Trafalgar doesn't seem to have an opinion on the matter, or not one that he bothers to share anyway, and lets Kid ramble on by himself. He does make the occasional remark though, so at least Kid knows he's not just tuning him out.

The best part about going back to the hotel together is taking the elevator up their respective rooms. Trafalgar's celebrity status always gets him put up in a swanky luxury suite, while Kid is usually a dozen floors below sharing a room with one of his crew, but they still get a minute alone during the ride. It's one last chance to get in some quick kissing and cop a feel without anyone around to see, and Kid likes to take advantage of it since it'll be another two weeks before he gets his fix again.

This particular night though some random fucking prick gets in the elevator with them, and that means he's not gonna get his goodnight kisses. He already lost the fucking pictures, now this? He glares at the back of the guy's head as the elevator doors close and imagines chucking him off the roof.

They reach his floor first and he shoulders past the cockblocking son of a bitch, glancing back at Trafalgar with regret. Trafalgar arches one sleek eyebrow and gives him a little shrug.

Damn it, this sucks. He should just get right back in the elevator, follow Trafalgar to his room, and finally fuck him in a bed like he's been wanting to.

But he doesn't. He turns around and goes to his own room, flops into bed, and Killer tells him to stop sulking so loudly and go the fuck to sleep.


	4. Race 12

Silverstone Circuit, Silverstone, Great Britain

...

Kid's troubles dealing with all the extra shit that comes with being a member of a professional racing team and has almost nothing to do with actual racing are not over, unfortunately.

Normally he has no involvement whatsoever in anything that isn't in his job description. Attracting advertising deals and sponsorships doesn't interest him at all, and shit like the photo shoot is a very rare exception. Unless it's to dip into the research and development budgets of industry heavyweights, he's not going to lift a finger outside of the garage.

Talking to the media about anything interests him even less, and he makes a point of doing it as little as possible. Mainstream news outlets only ever want to know about how Trafalgar was doing this season, they couldn't give a shit about 99% of the work he did.

Whenever Kid gave an interview it was always for niche interest groups, little independent magazines and websites of motor engineering enthusiasts, shit like that. That's the only sort of media involvement he likes, just shooting the shit about bikes with a couple of fellow gearheads who have a healthy amount of respect for all the technical expertise and skill that goes on in the background of pro racing. Those kinds of guys are very low key and laid back, most of the time he didn't even have to leave the garage or wash the engine grease off his hands, which he appreciated.

He avoids the big red carpet type events like the plague, where the riders and their teams are swarmed over by photographers and TV crews from major networks to promote the races and get people to buy tickets, then spend the rest of the night rubbing shoulders with corporate bigwigs who just want to pat each other on the back about how much money they're making.

For those reasons, he has very little experience with the limelight that Trafalgar basks in on a regular basis. And it's also why he's very fucking pissed to learn that he'll be required to attend one such event once they get to London.

Apparently there's some big fucking Grand Prix gala this year, and all the teams are going to be there, so it'd look pretty stupid if their team's lead engineer is conspicuously missing. Or that's what they tell Kid, anyway.

Him, along with his whole dang crew, have to spend a day getting prepped for interviews and fitted for tuxes, and a whole lot of other bullshit that has absolutely fucking nothing to do with winning races. By the time they leave for the shitty gala itself, he's completely fed up with everything, and it hasn't even fucking started yet.

At least everybody else is stuck in the same boat. He can endlessly heckle Heat and Wire about what dipshits they look like in black tie, even if they just say the same about him. Killer is too mature to join in, he actually seems entirely cool in a tux even though Kid has literally never seen him wear one before. He even knows how to tie a bow tie, and has to spend ten minutes doing everybody's because the rest of them don't have a clue. Fucking Killer.

Trafalgar's assistant ends up coming to get them because they spend too much time dicking around in Kid's room, putting off the inevitable, and they're lectured about appropriate behavior and not making Trafalgar look bad while getting herded down to the lobby. Kid gets snapped at for slouching, too.

When they get down there though, and Kid sees Trafalgar decked out in a tux that looks like it was made for him (and it probably was, the rich bastard), he has no idea how anything could ever make Trafalgar look bad. Holy christ, he was fucking fine.

Trafalgar eyes him disdainfully, and Kid sneers back. He knows he looks like an idiot in formal wear, there's no need to rub it in. Like he gives a shit about dressing up fancy. The only reason he's doing any of this crap is because he's contractually obligated. The second he can get away from this giant waste of time he's taking this damn suit off and throwing it in the fucking trash. 

So what if it's a rental, it'll be cathartic.

Once the whole team is accounted for it's time to leave, and everyone piles into the same limo. Somehow he ends up sitting next to Trafalgar, and for the whole ride to the venue he just wants to grab the fucker and mess up his perfectly styled hair and tailored outfit. Or at least put an arm around him.

Trafalgar is busy ignoring him, as usual, looking all elegant and completely at ease as his manager goes over the schedule of events and reminds him who he's supposed to talk to. Of course he'd be alright, he did shit like this all the time.

The instant they get there and the limo door opens, cameras are flashing and the press is crowding around. It's a given that as the reigning champions from last year they'd be getting a lot of attention, but Kid is still a bit taken aback. 

Trafalgar gets out first, and reporters latch onto him immediately. Kid tries to stay the wake he leaves on the way into the gala so he won't have to talk to anyone, though as soon as they get inside Trafalgar notices and gives him a sharp look.

“Don't hang onto me, Eustass. You look like an idiot.”

Kid glares at him. The fucking bitch. He has to know Kid isn't used to this shit. It shouldn't be a stretch to expect a little pity, just for tonight. It's not like Kid is trying to act like they're together or anything, even if they are on the same fucking team, he'd just appreciate a break from Trafalgar's usual ice-queen routine so he can get through this without being eaten alive by the fucking media. Is he really going to insist that he can't stand breathing the same air as him in public?

Apparently, yes. Trafalgar swans off into the crowd, leaving him to sink or swim on his own. Within an hour Kid has had a dozen microphones shoved into his face, and all anybody is asking him is how's Trafalgar riding compared to last year, what does Trafalgar think of the bike this season, or does he know if Trafalgar _fucking_ Law got a new goddamn haircut. Trafalgar did get a new haircut actually, and Kid's ready to chew off some fucking faces.

And after the press frenzy dies down, he has to sit through six fucking courses across from the bitch himself while Trafalgar daintly eats consommé and steak tartare and fucking duck foie gras, and continues to completely ignore him.

Then he has to listen to some shitty speeches by the president of the _Fédération Internationale de Motocyclisme_ , and the head of the British Auto-Cycle Union, and at least five other interchangeable bigwigs he doesn't give a shit about. They really didn't hold back on all the fucking pomp and circumstance for this shit.

When that's finally over, he escapes to the open bar before some fucking sponsor rep tries to trap him into talking about Trafalgar for one more goddamn second. God this is awful. If they ever tried to make him do this again he's just going to fucking steal the bike and get a new identity in Thailand. 

Liquor doesn't even help. He's still pissed off about everything after a few drinks, especially the fact that Trafalgar immediately fucking ditched him, and now he's just angry and kind of drunk. Heat and Wire disappeared right after dinner, Killer is off talking to some guy from the Suzuki team, and Kid doesn't really want to go back to the hotel by himself in this mood, so he decides to just stick to drinking until he can grab Killer and go.

Nobody bothers him for a while, the bartender keeps him well supplied with single malt Scotch and he doesn't see Trafalgar anywhere to refresh his memory either, so gradually he cools off enough that leaving sounds like a good idea. 

But first he stops by the restroom, because six whiskys aren't doing him any favors at this point. 

When he's at the sink, scowling at the reflection of his crooked tie in the mirror before deciding to just take the fucking thing off already, who walks in but Trafalgar.

Kid sneers. “Had enough of everyone kissing your ass tonight?” Nobody else is in here, so he's free to pick a fight without witnesses. If he couldn't fuck the stuck-up bitch tonight at least maybe an argument would help. 

But Trafalgar doesn't take the bait. He just looks around the room, and then snatches Kid by the arm and pulls him into one of the stalls. 

Before it sinks in what's happening Kid finds himself shoved back against the door with Trafalgar pressing up full against him, hands bunching up the front of his suit jacket, kissing him very insistently.

After a few seconds when he's still too shocked to react, Trafalgar pulls away, plainly irritated with his lack of participation.

Kid just blinks at him. “But there's no race tomorrow?” Fuck, of all the fucking things, why did he say that?! There are so many reasons that's completely irrelevant! 

Trafalgar takes a step back, frowning, and Kid remembers he's still mad at this fucking prick.

“You piece of shit, you're such a—”

“I'll make it up to you,” Trafalgar interrupts, smoothing out the creases he just put in Kid's tux and looking up at him with those disarming clear gray eyes. “Let's go back to the hotel.”

Kid snaps his mouth shut. Ok, he can work with that.

He manages to keep his hands to himself on the way out of the party, but it has to be obvious to anyone watching that he and Trafalgar are leaving together. He doesn't really give a fuck if anyone guesses why, though.

He does not keep his hands to himself in the town car. By the time they're sitting together in the back seat, Kid is completely over the surprise and ready to get this show on the fucking road. Screw this random driver, who cares about him. He can watch in the rear view mirror for all Kid gives a shit at this point.

When they reach the hotel, Trafalgar has to push him off twice before he notices the car has stopped. Trafalgar straightens his own tux, runs a hand through his hair to re-tousel it the right way, and somehow manages to look like he hasn't been making out in the back of a cab for the last twenty minutes.

To Kid the trip through the lobby seems like the longest walk ever, but then they make it to the elevator and he can touch and kiss Trafalgar again and this time he's not going to stop until he's dead, not even for the hallway getting from the elevator to his room.

Luckily the hall is empty, or maybe it isn't, but Kid is too distracted to notice. Either way they make it to his room and he finally gets to push Trafalgar down on a bed.

He doesn't even get half of Trafalgar's tux off, undoing the stupid hook and clasp fly on the trousers is enough to use up the last of his patience. As soon as Trafalgar is undressed enough to be fucked, that's what he does, shoving Trafalgar's knees up to his chest and spending the bare minimum time necessary to slick him up before getting inside him all at once. 

Trafalgar is so tight like this, bent in half, hot and perfect and squeezing around him. He's pleading nonstop for Kid to go harder and deeper, which drives Kid crazy, and leaves him desperate to pound Trafalgar into the mattress and really make him scream.

Coming once doesn't even take the edge off, if anything it just makes him want to do it again right now. Trafalgar is moaning and twisting around under him like a little slut on his bed, and even if it takes all night Kid's gonna fuck him until he can't get it up anymore. 

He flips Trafalgar over and gets him up on his knees next, and Trafalgar just grabs the bedframe, arches his back, and offers his ass up like the eager bitch he is. Jesus. Kid is completely lost, there's nothing on earth that could get him to let go of Trafalgar tonight.

At the end of it, when he's so spent he probably wouldn't be able to go another round without dying, it's so _so_ satisfying to be able to lay down right then and there and pull Trafalgar up against him. No need to get dressed, or lock up the garage and walk back to his room. He can just curl up behind Trafalgar and nose into his soft sweat dampened hair and breathe in that mix of expensive shampoo and cologne and fresh sex.

Trafalgar doesn't act like he's in any hurry to get up and go to his own room either, which is excellent. He just puts his arm over the one Kid has draped over his chest and lets Kid nuzzle the back of his head.

Kid isn't mad at all anymore, since it's pretty hard to stay angry with anybody who sucks his dick like it's the only thing they ever wanted. He's just really tired, and not even from being all fucked out and wrapped up cozy around Trafalgar. Shit like that goddamn gala is a different kind of exhausting than spending a whole day in the garage, and he's gonna need at least a week before he recovers enough to deal with anybody not on the team. If some reporter stuck a camera in his face before then he'd smack it out of their little weasel-y hands.

Sleep would help, but he wants to stay up and enjoy this a little longer. Trafalgar would probably sneak out back to his own room sometime before he woke up, and who knows when he'll be able to do this again.

When he starts nodding off though, he tries to think of something to say to keep him awake for at least a few more minutes. 

“That party was shit.” Yeah, that'll do. Scintillating. 

Trafalgar turns his head a little towards him. “I thought it was alright.”

“You're used to it,” Kid murmurs, his lips brushing over the back of Trafalgar's neck before he lays on a kiss. “Does anybody actually like that crap?”

“I imagine not. It could have been worse, though.”

“Yeah, could've been better too. I was kinda hoping you'd do something besides, ya know, leaving me to the fucking sharks,” he says, in between kissing his neck.

“Sorry,” Trafalgar says.

Kid pauses for a beat, and glances up. Has he ever heard Trafalgar apologize? To anyone? Is he being sarcastic?

Judging from the way Trafalgar is avoiding his eyes instead of smirking at him and delighting in his suffering like he usually did, he actually means it. Holy shit. The bitch might just have a heart.

He squeezes his arm around Trafalgar's waist a little tighter, and goes back to kissing him. “I lived. They better not make me do that again, though.”

“They might trot you out next time too.”

“Fuck, you think so? Can't believe the kinda pricks that kept talking to me...”

“You did get a lot of attention.”

Kid snorts. “That's for damn sure, they only wanted to talk about you though. Wait, how d'you know? I barely saw you the whole time.”

“I just noticed.”

But Trafalgar is frowning, and starting to shift in his arms. Not much, just enough to give away his discomfort with that line of questioning, and Kid realizes despite Trafalgar ditching him in the first ten minutes he'd still been keeping an eye on him.

Kid grins wide against his neck. He must've been too busy fending off anyone who tried to talk to him to notice Trafalgar watching him, but now it's nice to know he had been. “Aw, Trafalgar cares. Were you jealous? Not enough reporters trying to suck your dick tonight?”

“No,” Trafalgar says, answering all of it and nothing, then elbows him in the ribs hard enough to hurt.

Kid moves his hand down between Trafalgar's legs and gives him a loving squeeze. “Ow. Don't be mad baby, I'll make sure your dick is always taken care of.”

Groping Trafalgar's cock while kissing his neck turns into some real making out once Trafalgar turns around to face him, and Kid rolls him onto his back, just because he likes having Trafalgar under him even when he's being sweet.

They kiss leisurely, there's no urgency to get anything done at this point. Kid's not even sure he's physically capable of doing anything else tonight, and Trafalgar also seems content to let things lead nowhere.

He slides a hand up Trafalgar's thigh, and Trafalgar draws his leg up in a sinuous response, and it hits him just how nice it is to be able to be like this with him, warm and easygoing with each other. He wishes they could do this all the time instead of only when no one else was around.

And he wants to say that, out loud, even if it's just once. He thinks he's been pretty clear that he actually likes Trafalgar, that it's not just the sex he enjoys, he wouldn't mind dropping some of their animosity in public too, but in return Trafalgar has made it pretty clear that he's going to keep being a shit no matter what happened when they were alone.

Still, it's not like they ever talked about it, and tonight they had barely attempted to be subtle about whatever they have going on either. Maybe if he said something, maybe he just had to spell it out before Trafalgar would take him seriously...

He pulls away because he can't think when Trafalgar is doing that thing with his tongue, and just looks at him. Trafalgar looks back, lying against the pillows dark and beautiful and sleepy, and Kid suddenly wants him so much it feels like there's something physically stuck inside him, lodged in his rib cage sharp and painful.

He's gonna say it, he has to, how can he _not_ –

Then the fucking door opens, and ruins it.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Killer says, after he flips on the overhead light and realizes the room isn't empty. “I know for a fact Trafalgar has the penthouse to himself, why the fuck are you doing this in our room?”

Ah shit, he forgot about Killer.

Kid just scowls at him. Killer probably wouldn't appreciate hearing that they had been too impatient to ride the elevator up another twenty floors to make it to Trafalgar's room. Yeah, of course now he wishes they had spent another minute to get there, but at the time it had been vitally important to not waste a single second.

Killer doesn't turn around and leave right away though. “You're worse than teenagers,” he mutters. “Alright, I'm taking the suite then. Where's the key.”

Kid glances down at Trafalgar, who's watching Killer, not looking at all embarrassed to be caught in a compromising position. The little bitch seems to think it's funny, actually. Probably because he's not going to get an endless amount of shit for this later.

“In my wallet,” Trafalgar says. “Which is somewhere on the floor, I'm guessing.” Then he looks at Kid, sly-eyed and smirking. “Where did you throw my pants, darling?”

“Gross,” Killer says.

“Just get the fucking key,” Kid growls, very aware of how Trafalgar's hand is resting on his ass. Even though Killer can't see it through the sheets, Kid's pretty sure he's gonna start blushing if Killer doesn't get the fuck out in the next five seconds.

Thankfully Killer has no interest in hanging around, even for the sake of embarrassing the shit out of Kid. He just grabs the keycard to Trafalgar's suite, and leaves right after saying, “Don't touch any of my stuff.”

Kid drops his head into the crook of Trafalgar's neck. Well, at least Killer hadn't walked in fifteen minutes ago, or caught him fucking Trafalgar in the garage. He never would've let Kid live that down.

“How long has he known?” Trafalgar asks once the door's closed.

“Since prelims.”

“You told him?” He sounds surprised, but when Kid lifts his head to look at him again he can't tell if he's mad about it or not.

“Nah, he figured it out. He's always like that. Looks like you lost your room, though. Guess you have to stay here.”

Trafalgar arches an eyebrow. Damn, it was gonna sting if he said no after all this.

“I suppose you're right.”

Kid grins, and leans in to get back to where they were before Killer interrupted.

Trafalgar winds up staying with him the whole night. He's very nice when he's asleep, all warm and naked and spooned up right against him. He looks good, he feels good, he even smells good... overall it's just a very good night for Kid.

The morning is not as good. He wakes up to someone pounding on his door, bright and early, and instantly hates them. Trafalgar just grumbles something and burrows under the pillows, and Kid tries to ignore whoever is here to rip him out of heaven, but the knocking takes on a furious pace and eventually it has him out of bed and tugging on a pair of shorts to answer the door.

He's fairly sure the look on his face would make whoever was on the other side run for the fucking hills, but when he opens the door and sees who it is he finds himself unexpectedly smirking.

Shachi is the one standing in the hall, and he looks fucking _pissed_.

“The fuck you want?” Kid asks, but his shit-eating grin ruins any chance he might've had to pretend that Trafalgar isn't currently in his bed.

Shachi seems too angry to reply, he just glares at Kid and shoves his way in. “Law! You have to get ready! Get up!”

Shachi wrangles an uncooperative (and naked) Trafalgar out of bed and into the bathroom with the ease of someone who’s spent hundreds of mornings getting the little shit ready for events, and then stands guard so Kid can't even go into the shower with him.

Half an hour later Trafalgar still seems more asleep than awake, but he's showered and dressed and Shachi is pushing him, yawning, out the door. Kid wants to protest that he didn't even get a good morning kiss, but he's not sure Trafalgar would give him one and he does not want to be shot down in front of Shachi after scoring such a great victory.


End file.
